


The Lumber Jack-Off Spectacular

by ArmsofWar



Series: He's a Lumberjack [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Lumberjacks, M/M, crack!fic, ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmsofWar/pseuds/ArmsofWar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie drags Castiel to a not-so-kid-friendly lumberjack show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lumber Jack-Off Spectacular

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deeleybopper](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=deeleybopper).



> This fic is dedicated to the lovely, amazing deeleybopper. I also would like to thank the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show for inspiring me to write this piece. However, I would like to note that the stunts Dean, Bobby, Kevin, and Sam do are NOT safe and therefore this fic does not reflect the work done at that particular lumberjack show (you should definitely go. It's amazing even without the gyrations...). 
> 
> Also, I took all of the characters and COMPLETELY DESTROYED anything resembling their canon characters. Sorry, not sorry. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Nothing made Dean Winchester grin so widely as a rowdy crowd on a Saturday morning chanting his name.

And he didn't even need to take his pants off.

“Winchester! Winchester! Winchester!” they cheered as Dean tore into the arena with a chainsaw thrumming in his hands.

He met the escalating whooping and hollering by revving his chainsaw and gyrating his hips in time with the AC/DC overture Ash so graciously (and enthusiastically) put on for Dean's entrance.

This was the Lumber Jack-Off Spectacular: the not-so-kid-friendly lumberjack show hosted in the Martell Arena at the tip of New Jersey.

This was not exactly the place Dean expected to be when he started his career as a lumberjack, but wherever he lay his hat—or, rather, his axe—was home.

“Are we ready for a good time?” shouted Gabe, the MC, from center stage.

Dean winked at the audience and hefted his arms in the air, whirring the chainsaw one last time before shutting it off and falling in line with the rest of the lumberjack crew.

This was one of the bigger arenas Dean ever performed in. Usually, especially in national competitions, they were out amongst the trees somewhere out west or down south. Martells, previously an indoor NASL stadium, was now a place that events like their lumberjack show and the circus that performed in the evenings could find a home. It was big enough to seat nearly 4,000 people. In the beginning, their show hardly filled 200 seats, but in the past year sales were making a steady climb to fill half of the stadium or more at each performance.

Dean was happy as a clam. More asses in the seats meant more days he could chop down trees for fun, not just for a living.

He and the boys waved out at the audience. They were soon separated into two teams: Dean and Kevin were on team A while Sam and Bobby were on team B.

“All right!” Gabe shouted, walking in between the two teams. “Now, this half of the stadium,” he waved at the left half of the stadium, “Will be cheering for team A, can I get a YO-HO?!”

As usual, they gave a half hearted “Yo-ho.” Dean grinned. Gabe wouldn't allow that shit lying down.

“EXCUSE ME!” Gabe shouted into the microphone. “I wasn't aware that we were at the Ladies' Tea Time Party! I was pretty sure we were at a LUMBERJACK SHOW! SO I WANT TO HEAR A YO-HO!”

Rallied by the taunting, the left side seemed to bolster out a stronger “Yo-Ho!”

The right side seemed a little more prepared and rang out with enthusiasm. Dean made a show of sticking out his tongue and showing a thumbs down to the side B crowd.

In a couple of minutes, the entire stadium was going crazy. Half of the stadium booed at the opposing team while the other half cheered for their team of lumberjacks who were posing and flexing more like models than like the real, down-to-earth workers they were (except Bobby, who stood stoically and messed with his baseball hat), and soon enough the lumberjack show was ready to begin.

“All right, let's get this Lumberjack-off started!” Gabe shouted. “We're gonna start with Kevin and Sam on the classic wood-chopper!” the crowd cheered and Dean stepped back, grinning blindly at the audience.

Fuck, he loved this job.

 

 

_About a half hour earlier_

_  
_ Castiel was unimpressed. He held a program in one hand and general indignance everywhere else.

“Charlie,” he said, stirring his friend—whose attention was raptly focused on the bio section of the “Great Lumber Jack-Off Spectacular” program—to look at him.

“Yes, Cas?” she asked with a soft, whimsical smile on her lips. Castiel knew that look was nothing but a mask for the devious traitor underneath.

“Why am I here?” he asked. 

“Because I bought your ticket and you like going to shows with me,” she replied, confidently.

“Yes,” Castiel conceded, “Shows. Like _After the Fall,_ or _Porgy and Bess,_ or _Tosca_!”

“And now, we're seeing lumberjacks,” Charlie concluded, turning back to her program. 

“But I don't want to see lumberjacks,” Castiel whined.

She laughed, “Everyone wants to see lumberjacks.” 

“I don't.” 

Charlie stiffened and crossed her arms. “What?” Castiel asked. Charlie opened her mouth before quickly shutting it, as if thinking better of whatever she was about to say. 

“Charlie,” Castiel warned.

“I,” she started, then said in a rush, “I didn't really want to see _Come Fly Away._ ”

Castiel paled. “Shut your dirty trap.” 

As if a dam had been burst, Charlie continued. “And I wasn't that impressed either!” she squeaked, looking firmly at her program as if, it too, felt this way.

“Twyla Tharp is a choreography goddess!” Castiel hissed. 

The couple sitting further along on the bleacher turned to glance at them. 

Charlie groaned. “Just give the burly tree men a chance.” 

“Why do you even want to see this? I can't believe there's any...appeal for you,” Castiel said, somewhat curious but mostly bitter as his ass froze on the bleacher seat. 

“You don't need to be straight to appreciate a man who knows his way around timber,” Charlie said, wiggling her eyebrows, then nodding her head as if that sorted the matter. She patted Castiel's leg, “Just read your program.” 

“I don't want to,” Castiel said, resolutely tucking it into his handbag (“It's not a purse, Charlie, for heaven's sake!”). 

Fifteen minutes later, the lights in the audience dimmed and a spotlight came up on the stage. Castiel and Charlie were sitting fairly close to the stadium floor, so it was easy to see the MC as he brought the mike up to his lips and shouted to the audience, “Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Are you ready for a good show?” 

“Is that Gabe?” Cas asked, squinting. It was. That was Gabe, his roommate from the four years Castiel spent at NYU Tisch earning his Bachelor's degree in musical theater. He turned to Charlie and saw that she was looking...really anywhere but in the direction of Gabe or Castiel. “You knew?” 

Charlie shrugged. “Uh, well...he's how I got the tickets, actually,” she said with a shaky smile on her face. “Isn't that nice of him?” 

“I said are you ready for a good show!” Gabe shouted. Castiel, one to always help a friend, especially when they were in the arts, made a show of clapping his hands loudly amongst the din of timid whoops and hollers.

“I didn't know you still talked to Gabe,” Castiel said, leaning in to speak into Charlie's ear over the noise. He hadn't talked to Gabriel in a couple of years, and listening to his friend pump up the crowd, he felt a sudden guilt settle in his stomach. 

“Just recently,” Charlie replied. “Promised we'd see him after.” 

“Welcome to the Lumber Jack-Off Spectacular,” Gabe said, walking across the arena, filled with logs and a small pool of water with more logs, and just a lot of lumber everywhere. “There's a couple of rules when you're at a lumberjack show.” 

He pointed to a big red line at the base of the bleachers. “See this line? Please, do not go past the line! Otherwise you may leave the arena with one less finger....or leg...than you came in with, capisce?” 

“Also,” Gabe hopped unto a platform in between two massively long logs that stood upright and propelled straight up into the sky like trees. “At a lumberjack show, you must be as loud, as obnoxious, as down right dirty as you can! So right now, can you give me a really loud, really gutsy 'YO-HO!'?”

The response was less than satisfactory if the shake of Gabe's head was any indication.  _Well, you shouldn't have the damn show at 10:30 in the morning,_ Castiel thought, mutinously. 

“Excuse me, did you think we were at a silent auction?” Gabe asked. “I said I wanted a 'YO-HO!'”

The crowd, much to Cas's surprise, was able to rouse a bit more volume the second time. A roar of “Yo-hos” burst in the stands, Charlie right along with them. 

“I am ashamed to know you.”

“You're the odd man out, Castiel,”” Charlie said with a nudge. “Come on! Have a little fun you fuddyduddy!” 

“So, you want to meet your lumberjacks?” Gabe asked. He didn't need to prompt his audience this time as they started shouting out names. Apparently, most of the audience knew the lumberjacks who were about to perform. “All right! First out, from Saratoga, Wyoming, we have Bobby Singer!” 

The man strode into the arena, carrying a hand axe. Bobby Singer was older, probably in his early fifties, but Castiel had to admit that the ginger-haired man had forearms that were enough to make him lick his lips with a suddenly piqued interest. The women on the right side of the arena appeared to agree as they shouted out “Bobby! Bobby! Bobby!” while he whipped an axe expertly around his head and across his body, like a baton rather than a sharp, heavy weapon. When he got to the center, he tipped his baseball cap in the direction of the screams. 

“From Lawrence, Kansas, we have Sam Winchester!” 

Many screams ripped over the audience as Sam Winchester came out, sporting a red and black flannel shirt like Bobby, though it was rolled up to reveal an equally impressive pair of biceps above his chiseled forearms. He held nothing in his hands but when he got up to center stage, from which Bobby had backed up and to a spot further back, he made a show of flexing his muscles while the song “Macho Man,” burst out over the audience. 

“Please, Sam, this is a lumberjack show! Save those guns for another time!” Gabe said, winking at the audience. Cas couldn't help the grin on his face—same old Gabe. 

Expecting another rustic, American boy to bustle onto the stage, Castiel was surprised when Gabe said. “And, from lovely Honolulu, Hawaii, keep your hands going for Mr. Kevin Tran!” 

A lithe Asian man, no older than twenty or so, jumped into the arena. What he lacked in the brawn and height of the previous two, he made up for with enthusiasm as began twerking for the audience to Jason Derulo's “Wiggle.” The audience was insatiable as he wiggled and squirmed against one of the upright logs at the upstage-most part of the arena. 

“Well, if any of you have brought kids to this show,” Gabe said, “I hope you now thoroughly regret it!” The audience, for the most part, laughed, although there was a movement in the audience that indicated some parents were heading out of the arena with their children. Cas sighed. If it says it's not child appropriate, what did they think was going to happen? 

“Stop judging,” Charlie muttered in Castiel's ear. 

“That's like telling me not to breathe,” Castiel responded, glibly. 

“And finally,” Gabe said. “Also from Lawrence, Kansas, comes our second Winchester, and the current Underhand Chop World Champion. Give it up for Dean Winchester!” 

The audience roared as Dean Winchester came unto the stage to some mashup of AC/DC, holding a chainsaw and gyrating with it the way no man ever should. His tanned skin glistened under the stadium lights. His light blue sleeves were rolled up to his shoulder and his blue jeans hugged Dean's shapely ass like a glove. Even from this distance, Castiel could practically see the precise chisel of Dean's glutes as he turned to thrust his pelvis to the rest of the audience.

“And how are you judging this one?” Charlie asked. Cas licked his lips.

“Ten out of ten,” he said, eyes fixed. He did his best not to drool.

Oh, this would be a long show. 

 

 

The first event passed by with no incident, won surprisingly by the smaller Kevin Tran. Kevin racked a point on the board for Team A and Castiel found himself cheering alongside Charlie and the rest of their—possibly insane—side of the stadium. 

He knew he was lost, however, when Gabe announced the next event. “The next event is called 'Tree Felling,' ladies and gentlemen, and we're going to have Dean and Bobby up for this one.” Gabe explained that the two competitors—or “fellers”—had to use platforms made of wood that were stuck into one of the larger tree trunks in the arena to cut a smaller log placed on top of the trunk. The first one to cut all the way through the smaller log, by cutting both the front and the back of it, was the winner of the event. The platforms made the event harder than just cutting wood since it required a great deal more balance to chop wood on a thin platform in the air than safely and sturdily on the ground.

“Get ready to cheer on your team!” Gabe shouted. Before they even began, both sides started shouting “Dean!” and “Bobby!” and the entire stadium was in an uproar. The two men climbed to their posts and readied their axes. 

The buzzer went off, the men started chopping their logs, and Castiel's gaze was transfixed on Dean Winchester's ass. 

With each swing of the axe, the plank of wood that Dean perched upon would wiggle and force him to clench his legs to maintain balance. 

The jeans, by some work of Jesus, did very little to hide this fact. 

The denim cradled Dean's muscles and shifted with each swing. When Castiel managed to lift his eyes upward he could see Dean's muscular arms contract and extend as he would send another large cut of wood flying from the log and unto the arena floor from the sheer force of his swing. At impact, his powerful forearms and biceps rippled underneath tanned skin and Castiel swallowed audibly (well, it would have been audible if he wasn't in a stadium full of screeching men and women in flannels and camo pants).

The roars of the crowd were no match for the rip-tide of Castiel's heartbeat as it pounded in his ears. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he stared at the muscle bound majesty working away at his log. 

“You okay, there?” Charlie asked. Cas blinked but his eyes refused to budge as Dean shifted on his plank to chop at the opposite side of the log. Dean's face was beaded with sweat, and gleamed appealingly under the stadium lights, as he annihilated the log with practiced, calculated swing after calculated swing. “Caaaaaas?” 

“Huh?” Castiel said, watching Dean grit his teeth with determination and stick his axe into the log, shards of spruce tree flying every which where. At last, with one final swing, Dean cut through the log about three seconds before Bobby cut through his. Castiel and Charlie's side of the stadium clapped their hands and stomped their feet, shouting in frenzied glee. 

“Looks like another win for Team A!” Gabe shouted, rousing an even louder chorus of “Yo-Hos!” and “Hoo-hahs!” Even Castiel found himself loudly applauding the event, his hands red and stinging when it finally began quieting down.

Maybe he wouldn't need to pretend to enjoy himself, after all. 

The next event began, starring Bobby from Team B and Kevin from Team A in an axe throwing competition. Each man took their turn throwing axes at a target and, much to Castiel's surprise, both nearly got a bullseye each time. 

“So, not so bad as you thought, now, is it?” Charlie said, scooting closer to Castiel in her triumph. 

Castiel thought of a sarcastic response that he might typically make, but when he glimpsed Dean Winchester lifting his arms in the air, working out whatever kinks the previous event might have set in his shoulders, he knew it was futile. 

“I don't think I've felt this hot since I saw Gavin Creel in _Hair,_ ” Castiel admitted quietly. 

Charlie froze, briefly. “Didn't you say that was the moment you truly confirmed you were gay?” she asked.

“These both appear to be very eye opening experiences,” Castiel admitted. He finally glanced at his friend, which may have been an error as they found themselves giggling, fetching stares from some of their neighbors. 

“Stop it, Charlie! We're in public!” Castiel said.

“You started it with your 'coming of gay' tales!” Charlie snickered. Castiel rolled his eyes as the winner of the axe throwing competition, Bobby from Team B this time, put their mark up on their board. Team A's side booed with faithful endurance while the lumberjacks set up the next act. 

The next forty-five minutes seemed like a whirlwind, event after event piling one after the other until they came to the final show down. The score was in Team A's favor—6 to 4, but Gabe threw a wrench in the wheel. “This game is worth three points! So either team can end up the champion of this game. But make sure you stick around after the event, for our time-honored tradition of the Loser Send Off!”

Castiel glanced at Charlie whose eyes glinted with mischief. Charlie was one of those people who snickered behind her hand when old ladies fell down in the park or when children tripped in little league baseball games. Castiel wasn't really one for watching people get embarrassed for his own entertainment, having watched many a dancer sprain their ankle and ruin their careers while the audience awkwardly giggled at their misfortune. 

Yet, the final event remained: log rolling—and suddenly the pool of water made sense. 

“For this final event, we are going to have a good old fashioned brother face off!” Gabe shouted into the audience as Sam and Dean Winchester wiped their brows and stood side by side at the pool. “The goal of this game is to knock the opponent off of their log, while also maintaining balance as their own logs spins in the water. Best two out of three, gents?” Gabe asked, turning to the brothers. 

“Yeah, give the big moose a chance,” Dean said with a smirk. Team B side of the auditorium booed and Dean wiggled his fingers at them and stuck out his tongue. 

“Are you sure you're up for this, Dean?” Sam quipped back. “I mean, the water is a bit chilly. Your old brittle bones might not make it.” All around Cas, boos and playful hisses shouted over to the taller Winchester boy who ignored them in favor of flexing one more time for his side and earning many appreciative cheers. 

“All right, boys, enough squabble. We'll get to the bottom of this soon enough, won't we?” Gabe said, turning to the audience who applauded loudly as Gabe counted down. The buzzer went off, propelling Dean and Sam to perch on the long log that stood in the middle of the pool. They faced opposite directions as the log turned. They ran quickly, trying to switch up their speeds to trip up their opponent. 

Then Sam bent down one foot and kicked a healthy helping of water in Dean's face. The water arced and drenched the elder Winchester, but the boys still rolled on, with small splashes thrown at each other until Dean, after a sudden misstep, fell into the pool feet first. 

“One point for Team B!” Gabe shouted. “Team A needs two more wins in order to win this round, Team B just needs one more. Who do you think's gonna get it?”  


As the audience shouted for their team, Cas stared agog at an even further improvement to his sudden fantasy fodder as Dean picked himself up out of the water and shook off his legs. Wet denim clung to sturdy, muscular legs and centralized around the world's finest ass and an impressive package that left Cas's mouth slightly agape. His eyes drifted up to newly revealed chest and abs that the thin blue shirt did little to hide now that it was soaked through. 

His eyes drifted further up, and he expected to see Dean jeering or taunting his brother as he got ready for the next round. Instead what Castiel found to his immense surprise, and immediate pleasure, was that Dean's eyes had somehow—out of the hundreds sitting in the audience—settled on him. Even from the fifty feet away they were from each other, Castiel could see that Dean Winchester possessed eyes greener than the Emerald City. They sent a shiver straight down Castiel's spine, as if he was the one drenched in water. He felt his eyes flutter shut. 

When he felt he could safely open his eyes, he watched Dean start to turn away, but not without a quick little wink in Castiel's direction.

Cas didn't know whether to be mortified or delighted. The buzzer sounded off and the two brothers stepped onto the log and kicked up cheers into the stadium. This time, in surprisingly short order, Sam fell off the log. He was so tall, Castiel momentarily feared the man would hit his head on the way down, but he caught the log with his hand and was able to keep most of his upper body dry as he pushed out of the water and settled on the starting mark again. 

“This is the last round, ladies and gents,” Gabe said. 

The buzzer sounded and the two drenched, muscular brothers stepped unto the log and began to run. They kicked sprays of water at each other at a pace that seemed to increase as they both managed to stay on far longer than either of the previous two times. Cas could feel Charlie laughing at him as he stared at the two brothers, drenched and kicking up a frenzy of water and sweat, until finally with a twist Dean fell onto the log and smack dab into his baby maker. The audience hissed and winced as Dean gasped for a second then slowly slid off of the log. The other boys, conscious of the sudden predicament Dean was in, helped the man out of the pool. He pushed them away gently and bent over a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and tucking his head in between his legs. 

“You okay, there, Dean-o?” Gabe asked. 

It took a moment but after a brief silence, Dean lifted up a shaky thumbs up. 

“Well, then,” Gabe said. “That makes this event end 1-to-2! Team B wins the day!” Castiel was somewhat surprised that even though the other side won, all of the arena seemed abuzz with excitement as they cheered on the lumberjacks who posed in front of the audience to soak in their applause. Dean, soon enough, joined their ranks and after a moment looked hardly any worse for wear. 

For the Loser Send Off, much to Charlie's pleasure, Dean and Kevin needed to do the chicken dance in the middle of the arena. Castiel grinned as he watched the audience start to rise and do the dance with the two lumberjacks and soon the laughter spread all over the arena. 

It also helped that Castiel got to see that pretty Winchester booty shake its thing one more time in wet jeans before the lumberjacks hurried back to the exits and the regular lights of the arena came on.

The show was over, and soon people were filing out of the stadium. Charlie grabbed his sleeve and pointed towards an entryway in the opposite direction most of the traffic was going.

“So, you liked it, huh?” Charlie said with a grin, turning to glance at Castiel as they marched down the steel steps to meet up with Gabe. 

“Probably inappropriately so,” Castiel admitted. Charlie snorted to prove she heard and soon they were met by the MC, Gabe, who was wiping down his face with a white towel. 

He leaped over the divider and gathered Charlie in a massive hug. Castiel held in a snicker as she made a 'I-cant-breathe-when-will-this-be-over?' face before Gabriel finally let go.

“Castiel Novak, as I live and breathe,” Gabriel said, staring at Cas with wide eyed surprise before Cas too was swept into the MC's arms. 

“Nice to see you, Gabe,” Castiel wheezed before he was set back down to Earth. 

They started catching up, Charlie said that she needed to run to the ladies' room, so Castiel got to know about how he came to the Lumber Jack-Off Spectacular and what he'd been doing since their good old days at their Alma Mater. 

“You're the last person I expected to see here,” Gabe admitted, finally. 

“Yeah, well, Charlie dragged me here against my will,” Castiel said, honestly, but added, “but it wasn't too bad.” 

“No, it wasn't bad _at all_ was it?” Charlie asked with a smirk as she returned to them. “Though that might have had more to do with a certain lumberjack than with Castiel's sudden interest in timber sports.” 

“Oh yeah?” Gabriel said, laughing, though suddenly putting on a mock-thoughtful look. “Let me guess it in one: Dean?” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Why would you even guess him?”

“Because I can recognize the preferred type of my four-year long roommate and his conquests,” Gabe said. “Even after three years apart, you've always been a sucker for a dimpled cheek and a nice ass.” 

Castiel cleared his throat. “He was very good at his, um, craft.” 

He didn't need to look at either Charlie or Gabe to know what they were thinking of  _that_ sentence. 

“I could introduce you, if you'd like,” Gabe said, but Castiel was immediately shaking his head. This guy was a lumberjack for Christ sake. If anything said “hetero-normative cis American boy” it was Dean Winchester of Lawrence, Kansas. 

They did, however, manage to plan a coffee date between the three of them before Charlie and Castiel started taking off. 

When Charlie dropped him off back at his house, she shoved a bag in his hands.

“When did you get this?” Castiel asked. 

“I didn't go to the ladies room,” she admitted. “I thought I'd get you something instead. Enjoy.” 

Before Castiel could get an explanation, Charlie sped off down the road and out of sight. He buzzed into his apartment building and stepped into the elevator. Once inside, he reached into the bag and first saw a booklet, bigger than the programs they were previously handed. 

He pulled it out just as the elevator opened on his floor. He walked to his apartment, 621C, and opened the door. Setting his keys on the counter, he slipped onto the bar stool that accompanied his breakfast island in the middle of the kitchen, let his satchel fall to the floor, and flipped open the program. Inside was a page about the show's history, followed by a gallery of glossy pictures that showed off all of the athletes. Castiel quickly found one of Dean, who was climbing one of the tall logs with nothing but a rope that propelled him upwards. Each senew and muscle in Dean's arm was tensed, and it looked like his legs were about ready to spring into action. After a moment, he turned further and found a page Charlie had already dog-eared. 

It was another bio section, probably similar to the one in their other programs. There were no pictures, much to Cas's chagrin, but next to Dean's name came a short bio about his time in Kansas and the west coast where he worked for a bunch of timber companies before starting his career, with his younger brother Sammy, as a timber athlete. Against his better judgement, Castiel couldn't help but be impressed. 

At the bottom of his bio, it had a list of hobbies. He saw Sam's was “Cooking, Hunting, and Reading,” and Kevin Tran just above Dean's said—to some degree of concern—“Twerkin' to Rihanna and Texas Hold 'Em.” 

But Dean's hobby, his solitary hobby, made his heart stand still.

“Dean Winchester's Hobbies: Ballroom Dancing.”

“Oh, Castiel,” he whispered to himself, breath catching in his chest. “You're lost now.” 

 


End file.
